


SLIDE

by Miffyminty



Category: Legend of the Seeker, The Sword of Truth - Terry Goodkind
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miffyminty/pseuds/Miffyminty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicholas the Slide chooses a strange woman to be his guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SLIDE

**Author's Note:**

> I am uncertain whether Nicholas is in the TV show, Legend of the Seeker, as I only watched the first few episodes. He makes his appearance in Naked Empire, the 8th book of the Sword of Truth series.

It was that time again. Repeated, urgent knocking at the door alerted Nicholas to the guards’ return, drawing him back into his body. The flight had been so refreshing, almost peaceful, but now was not the time for self-indulgence. That would come later, after the killing.

Realigning his senses, Nicholas stretched his stiff limbs as he rose from his spot on the floor. As he approached the door, he cast out a hand to light a single lamp, squinting for just a moment to let his eyes adjust to the sudden change in lighting. He unbolted the lock and pulled open the heavy door to let Najari in with the latest guests for selection. The big man ushered in the crowd of perhaps a dozen frightened but darkly fascinated people. They looked around his sparsely furnished abode, hesitant to see what they could not prevent their eyes from discovering. Nicholas doubted they could really appreciate the beauty of the darkness, though he knew they tried.

Silently, Nicholas stepped up to the group, near the middle so he could assess all of them. Almost immediately, his gaze fell on a woman standing near the back by the two nameless guards. Her long hair was dark, not like most citizens of Bandakar; in the darkness it seemed black, but was probably only a deeper shade of brown. Like the rest, she was frightened and looked about in awe; like the rest, she wouldn’t look him in the face for fear of what she would find there. Nicholas almost chose her first, but reconsidered. The only thing interesting about her was her hair—not a substantial reason to choose her to be his guest.

Surveying the rest of the group, he found several more interesting subjects. One was a pretty girl, with curled blonde hair and bright, innocent blue eyes. She seemed more curious than anything, not suspecting that she had come here to die. Nicholas flicked a black-tipped finger toward her, smiling inwardly to himself; innocence was so wonderful a spice to flavour a spirit.

Near her stood twin boys, trembling together, fine sandy hair shaking with their combined efforts to remain still and silent. Nicholas stepped toward them, causing one of them to cry out pitifully, and then clap a hand over his mouth in shock and fear. His brother held him close, face buried in his shoulder. The one who had cried out stared up at Nicholas with wide, scared amber eyes, knowing already his fate. Nicholas touched his face gently with one hand, staring down into those eyes as he stroked the other twin’s soft hair.

A whimper from somewhere to the right urged Nicholas to move away from the twins, to continue his search for interesting guests. He found a middle-aged man who looked as if he would have made a good soldier, if not for the peaceful, subordinate ideals of his people. Foolish ideals, they were. He pointed at the man. He would make a soldier of him yet.

Nicholas felt eyes watching him as he moved to the end of the group, but paid no attention as he found his last subject. A younger girl, probably in her early teens, stood motionless, watching the others in the group. Tears ran down her face as she turned toward him, discovering that he had chosen her. With a gasp she looked up into his eyes, her own widening as she placed a protective hand over her swollen belly. Just having her in his sight angered Nicholas; knowing that the guards had chosen a pregnant girl pained him. It wasn’t that he felt sympathy for the girl or her unborn child, but that he knew he would never be a father. Before he was taken by the Sisters of the Dark to be experimented on, he had notions of settling down someday and having a family. But that idea had been torn from him when he became their project, when they turned him into what he was now. He crooked his finger at the girl for the benefit of the crowd, so they would know he showed no compassion.

Finally, he broke his gaze from her, looking to the guards to show the people out. As they did so, and Najari bound the wrists of those he had chosen, Nicholas watched the people go. He liked to see the looks of relief on their faces as they were spared the torture of his continued presence. They could be back any day, though, and they didn’t know it.

Watching, he noticed the dark-haired woman again. As she turned, last to leave, she looked different than the others. Her expression was not that of relief, but of…disappointment. At the doorway, light from a torch glinted off her hair and Nicholas saw that it was, in fact, black. He ran a hand through his own oily hair, surprised and intrigued by the comforting colour.

“Wait,” he spoke softly as Najari moved to close the door. Not taking his eyes from the woman’s hair, he told the guard, “I want that one.”

The woman turned, eyes wide. She looked frightened and confused, as if wondering why he would change his mind at the last moment. Nicholas had a brief thought that he couldn’t have more than five; he turned and flicked his wrist at the pregnant girl, a gesture of dismissal. It wouldn’t really be fair, taking two spirits from one body. Something could go wrong. Besides, he could always try another time if his interest piqued again. Now, though, he was utterly fascinated with this woman with black hair who seemed eager to be with him. The girl ran out, relieved, not caring that her hands were still bound. She could take care of that later; what mattered now was that she would live another day.

Nicholas dismissed Najari before he had a chance to take the new woman’s arms to bind her hands behind her back. The big guard raised his eyebrows but shrugged away whatever notion he’d had about Nicholas’ safety. Surely a powerful wizard such as he could defend himself adequately against one fragile woman, should she raise the courage to try to resist.

As the door closed, Nicholas raised a hand to simultaneously douse the lamp and lock the bolt on the door. The sound of metal on metal caused his guests to shrink back into the far corner, where they tried futilely to avoid him for as long as possible. All of them, that is, except the strange woman, who stood near the door, no longer looking frightened, but confident. She hadn’t so much as flinched when the bolt slid home, only stood staring at Nicholas in something like wonder as she wrung her hands together in the single front pocket of her unremarkable grey dress.

Well, Nicholas thought, he would make her wonder at her own death. She would feel the agony of being conscious while having her spirit torn from her body, and she would marvel at how such pain was even possible.

When he took a step forward, her confidence seemed to falter, but when he took another step, so did she. Then it was he who faltered as she stepped forward again. He wanted so badly to taste the determination in her spirit, but pure fascination made him wait. He did not step forward again, but waited to see if she would come to him. She seemed to oblige him, but not five steps away she stopped, tilting her head to one side and examining him. After looking him up and down, she seemed to be most interested in his hair, much as he was with hers.

As she finally stepped forward again, Nicholas felt compelled to do the same. They met, and he could almost smell he complete lack of fear. It was nearly intoxicating, and made him want to taste her spirit even more. The thought of it distracted him, and before he realized what had happened, she had reached up and touched his face, his shoulder, his hair. Her fingers hooked a loose strand behind his ear, then trailed down his hair, pulling some of it in front of his shoulder. The hand closed, as if she liked the feel of the oils, then moved to repeat the motion.

He liked the touch; it was comforting, in a sense. Since he had become the Slide, everyone regarded Nicholas with fear, even those who had made him. It was nice to have someone standing before him, touching him, who held not even a shred of fear toward him. Suddenly coming to his senses, he found exactly that extremely odd. What was this woman that she didn’t fear him, but actually seemed to like him? He caught her wrist abruptly as it moved up for a third time.

With his other hand he gestured to the door, causing it to fly open, then glared at the four scared people in the corner. They took their chance and fled. The noise of the commotion in the hallway drifted into the dark room for an instant before the door slammed closed and the bolt slid home once again.

When Nicholas looked back at the woman, he saw that she was smiling up at him. Her dark eyes sparkled in the darkness, calling to him, to the magic that made him. Then he realized the reason she was not afraid, and the reason he felt comfort in her presence: she was like him, a Slide. He knew not why or how she had come to be, only that she was.

He loosened his grip on her arm, letting her hand cup his face as he looked down into her eyes. She embraced him then, laying her head against his chest as he folded his arms around her, his flowing robes whispering against her dress.

“I’d like to hunt,” she said quietly after a while. Her voice was lovely, Nicholas thought, musical as she spoke his own thoughts aloud.

“And so we shall,” he replied, guiding her toward the bowl he kept for holding spirits.

They sat on the floor facing each other, and let their spirits soar.

 

2011


End file.
